Youth Poetry - Honourable Mention

We are always moving, one never truly stops
Just as the wind, in a constant rush
I watch as the wind chimes sway and rock
As the cold blows over, creating a crimson flush

The seasons now changing, it's clear to see
The leaves turning their colours
And falling off trees
So akin to how a young child
May one day be
Eighty years wiser, slowly losing memories

A cycle in motion, we're much more than ourselves
Dawn a new year, start again, ring the bells
Come Spring the bare trees will be covered anew
And after we leave, new heartbeats will drum too